Ean sat on the couch before his TV, beating Space Shooter on his gaming console for the umpteenth time. He was alone in the room well, except for me. I’m The Narrator. Technically I’m everywhere. And, of course, now there’s you.
You? E paused his game and glared at me, which is a pretty neat trick given that I’m just a disembodied voice in his head. N, you’re my imaginary friend. No one else can hear you, and there is no one else even here. Who the heck are you trying to talk to?
I wasn’t trying to talk to anyone I was succeeding in having a conversation with my new imaginary friends: The Audience. See, ever since Ean told me to stop giving him out-of-character information, I haven’t had anything to narrate about but him.And telling someone what they’re doing while they’re doing it isn’t good storytelling: it’s just annoying.
And you solved this problem, Ean interjected, by using my imagination and giving yourself someone new to talk to?
I preferred to think of it as our imagination, but basically yeah.
Huh. E gave you a tentatively welcoming wave. Hi, he said. Uh…I’m Ean. People call me E. Welcome to my life.